Vacancy
by Dem-chan
Summary: There she stood, with golden locks and bright blue eyes, Sam Puckett, drunk, asking for Carly, only to be given a very confused Freddie Benson. M for Lemons etc.
1. Surprise! Its fate

**Noted: **So hey...I'm back. Yeah 3 looooong months. And you know what? In that time, those weeks of cramming for homework and being a nerd, I haven't gotten any better at writing. I still suck.  
>But, while I'm back on for now, I'll try to update really fast. If you haven't noticed, I've been tasting the Seddie love. The sweet taste of pure Seddie is fucking great! But now that flavor is gone, because the Seddie arc has come to an official end :( So I'm presenting this fanfiction (which probably won't make it past 13 reviews), for those who enjoy fluff, lemons and some touching Seddie moments. So here's to you Seddie fans, may we all feel that Sam and Freddie chill once again.<p>

**Disclaimer:** Don't own ICarly...yet...

**CHAPTER 1**

**Surprise! Its fate.**

When I heard that thump, that loud slow and lazy one, I knew the hand that struck my door. And I found myself standing in front of that very door, in my boxers, contemplating my options. The knocking just continued. _Was it even my door? Carly should have told Sam not to come right? She told her that I was busy today right?_ My thoughts were being replaced with the sound of a slow steady banging. I gripped the doorknob, knowing that I was soon going to make a terrible decision.

Of course, understanding that my night was over, I swung the door open.

And there she was, teetering in the doorway. Her hair messed up, blue eyes, wide, looking around. Shirt practically ripped off her body, one pant leg pulled up to her knee while the other remained low, shoe in one hand and a cigarette tucked away in the corner of her mouth.

"You're not Carly." She sniffled, leaning against the door frame. "Why aren't you Carly?" She stuttered like crazy. Her breath smelled like Liquor. "Where's your...mom?"

Sam must have come, looking for Carly across the hall. My night was ruined. But I had never known Sam to be a drinker, or a smoker. Her whole get-up made me a bit nervous, I was shocked, "She's out." I quickly stated, then as if in a trance, asked, "Sam...since when do you smoke?"

"I don't..." She stumbled aside, "I don't feel well." I watched her sink to the floor, her head pressed against the wooden surface, "I'm sleepy."

At this point I'm clueless on what to do. I awkwardly try to close the door, but Sam's moaning and groaning fill my heart with guilt. So I just stand in the doorway, looking down at the girl like some sort of deer in the headlights. _Wasn't taking care of Sam Carly's job?_

I make another dumb decision, I climb by Sam's side, my eyes looking down the hall carefully, avoiding her eye contact. And then I just give her a slight look, a little peek. Her head, fully exposed, her hair a mess, everywhere. It was around her head, it was all over her back. She had so much hair, and I never even noticed before. So without much thought I just place my palm on top of her golden mane. Perfect fit.

"FREDDIE!"

I jumped. Her random scream practically made me shit myself. The moment of peace was ruined.

"GET CARLY!"

I clap my hand around Sam's mouth. "Shhhh! She's probably asleep!" She gives me this shy look. Like a puppy who I've just scolded, like I punished her or something. She mumbled between my fingers, and I listen to her stomach make concerning noises. I knew what was coming, a gift, a gift from the belly of a pig, or at least something that eats like a pig.

I needed to get Sam out of the hallway first, so I simply ask, "Sam...Have you been drinking unhealthy amounts of alcohol?"

Very slowly and with a high pitch, she mutters, "I drank beer Freddie." I pause, for something so destructive sounded so innocent. She gave me a smile, a warm happy look. "I feel like shit." She then burps.

"Please Sam, lets..." I take the cigarette from her mouth, noting the touching of her lips with my fingertips I hold back hormones. "...let's just go inside for now."

She struggles to get up, like a child she remains still.

"Come on Puckett." I grab her by the arm. She squeaks.

Since when does Sam squeak?

The blond then shows her true strength as she drags me to the floor. The cigarette goes flying, and my head leaves an echoing noise as it crashes against the floor. I moan in pain. Sam just smiles, licks her lips, and then proceeds to wrap her arms around my head.

"Sam...Sam...call an ambulance..." I lay there pretty sure my head was broken. "Sam...Sam...stop licking me Sam..." I feel her tongue graze my cheek. Oh god, worst night of my life right now. If I get a boner from Sam Puckett, I'll never be able to live with myself.

Then, like a slap..."Freddie...I like you." Those words sounded almost too convincing. Yet weren't true, Sam was drunk, she was just running her mouth. Like some sort of injured animal she lets go of my head and lifts herself up slowly. And I watch her gag once. Gag twice.

At the last second I just let out this dry noise, which turns into a low cough. I feel mush pour down my back. And I hold my breath, shaking a bit.

It was the worst moment of my life.

And all I could do was mumble some curses, feeling the warm mush slide around me. Sam slurps and leans against the wall, "God...that's so much better," she hisses in pain, rubbing her belly. She gives me this goofy smile.

"I'm happy for you."

"Freddie...you smell really bad." Sam slurs, I watch her lick her lips, ",Reallly Badddd."

I ignore that comment with strength and plan to take a risky move. With what little skill I had, I jump up onto my feet and hear "Sam's gift" hit the floor. I look down, it was everywhere. I feel myself making an ugly disgusted face. "Phew, what did you eat?" I mutter.

"Not that." She smiles, now touching the door. "Get Carly." She drags out Carly's name for a while…

"Not now Sam...I have to go burn my skin off." I open the door, confused about how to clean up the hallway in time to get Sam a place to sleep and to shower the smell of shit off of me. Through all this thought I feel a sudden weight gain on my leg.

"No! FREDDIE! TAKE ME WITH YOU!" Sam wraps around my leg, "I'm scared."

Yeah. Sam is the complete opposite of normal Sam when drunk. I roll my eyes, "Get up and come inside then." I drag her along the floor some more.

She shakes her head rapidly, lifting her hands like a child, "Carry me please."

Again, I just look down at her. This weird smile stuck to my face. Why was this all so erotic for me? I bend over, and with one hand around her neck, the other around her waist, I stumble inside as Sam hangs limply in my arms. She laughs this slow dull noise, "It's like a honeymoon." She traces my chest. I feel chills. God the chills feel so good.

I bite my lip, "Mhm." I carry her to my room.

"It's like we're married." She smiles, rubbing my cheek with this dazed look.

"Yep." I place her onto my bed. "Now stay here." I point at her as she fumbles in my sheets, laughing to herself and kicking her shoes off to the side. "Just...get comfortable." I then start to rip off my socks.

"Oh yeah Freddie..." My eyes deliberately turn to the bed, "Take it off." She purrs under the sheets, squirming like a child on candy.

"Sam...go to sleep." I lean over and tuck her in. "You'll be better in the morning."

"Freddie I feel sick." She touches my face, gently, just this light touch that sends immediate chills down my spine.

Is it rude to say, I like this Sam more? She's nice and sweet. Vomit-y but sweet. I can't help but smile.

"I know…" I push her onto the pillow.

"Tell me a story." She closes her eyes, breathing softly. And then, before I could speak, she adds in this little comment, "Like how my dad used to."

And then I just feel like shit again. Not like the vomit on my back kind of shit, like how I take my mom for granted. I start to remember that Sam has no dad. She barely has a mom. I fumble with the sheets on my bed.

"Sam…"

"Shhh." She cooed, sticking her finger in my mouth. I almost gagged as she shoved her fist down my throat. A smile perches on her lips. "I'm sorry."

I pull her hand away, "For what Puckett?"

"For puking on you." She burps.

"Does Carly usually take care of you like this?"

"Who?"

Nevermind.

I stumble from my bed and clicking the light off, I say a small goodnight, and wait for no reply. I shut the door, and stand outside for a long pause. Like a movie, the entire night was replaying through my brain. How this all started, I don't know. I don't know where Sam came from, I don't know if she does this all the time. I'm just clueless.

And in the midst of my thoughts a realism strikes me. I don't know Sam at all. Staring at my sweaty palms I lick my lips before taking a shower. These very hands head been the first contact, without pain, I'd ever had with Sam.

Even though drunk and desolate, Sam seemed nice and calm. It was a refreshing pace, a change.

And to think, the only way to make a crazy girl like Sam Puckett relax is to give her a couple beers, that'll do the trick.


	2. Pretend

Disclaimer: I don't own ICarly...cause I just don't.

Notes: Wow!~! Oh my gosh! Thanks for the reviews guys! \(^o^)/  
>So since so many of you commented, It really inspired me to work on this story. You see, I have a nasty habit of never finishing a story (lack of interest or views(yeah I'm fucking shallow okay?)) , so please, I beg, if you want this story to go on review like the sexy beasts you are!<br>If something comes up I'll tell you guys! Just pretend I'm like a good friend who you can talk to, if you have any ideas hit me up okay?  
>So here's what you've been waiting for:<p>

Chapter 2:

Pretend

It hit me good, the splitting headache that started at the temple of my head and progressively got worse on its way down my spine. I sat very still, holding my sweaty palms against my splitting, equally sweaty, forehead. I could hear myself gasping for air. And then this sudden intense heat wave attacked my skin, it nearly cooked my body, and, before analyzing where I was, my hands were already beginning to strip frantically. I began ripping off my shirt, my pants, throwing my tangled and damp hair around. Then, kicking the flannel sheets off of my sweaty legs and taking a deep sigh, I basked in cool air. Even though it only lasted for a second, I still was thankful. And for when it ended I was quickly back into my fetal position, holding my forehead, praying that I'd make it through all this.

This pain was all too familiar, and I usually experience during wakeup call at Carly's house.

It meant I was drunk again, because this was definitely a hangover.

These sheets were different from Carly's. The room smelled like vomit, a very common scent. The darkness around me engulfed my sight completely. I started to get up, fell. Started to get up again, this time with a bit more effort, now gripping my forehead and a very cold metal desk it was only a matter of time before I made direct contact with the chill. I attacked the metal, feeling my hot skin press down against the cold.

I've never been this overheated before. And it was then that I realized Carly doesn't have a metal desk so close to her bed.

I rose up, my headache throbbing. "Hello?" My voice rang around the small room. It was a stupid thing to say. What if I was kidnapped? Would the molester really say hello back? And if a molester was even in the room wouldn't I have noticed him by now? I guess, with that slight hello, I was hoping for a recognizable voice to echo back.

A certain beam of light that stretched onto the ground caught my eye. I watched, squinting, the tiny slit below the door extended light from the outside world. But, even though mystical, in some way, the light just made my headache worse.

Now, a bit nervous, I shuffle around the room. My hands searching for something, something to guard myself with. My skin was still boiling hot, and after circling the room once, I needed to take a small break to catch my breath.

Then I heard a door open and close from beyond the room. I hear mumbling and shouting, and laughing. Was I still at the party? If I was at the party why was I fully clothed in bed?

I rose slightly, inching towards a nearby wall. "Dear god…" I whisper to myself, "…I'll kick the first ass that pops through that door." My skin was burning, and now standing still just worsened it. My headache literally made me wince. And as I tried to project my attention to the door, I focused all my energy. I was alert. My eyes watching a suspicious shadow cover the golden light that spread onto the floor through the crack. I was silent.

And like a beam of light, the door swung open. And in the blink of an eye, I felt a body grab me and throw me around.

After hitting the floor hard, I groaned, and held my head tightly.

"Shhh!" A shrill voice quaked at me.

The lights were now on, my skin was still on fire. My headache was now out of control. Let's just say I was very uncomfortable.

I bit my lip hard as I climbed up from the floor, "You asshole!" I gained strength, kicking my enemy in the leg. He yelped and tumbled to the floor, it was then that I landed on top of him, choking him furiously.

"Sa-" His dry voice squeaked. "Sam!" He shook my shoulders. "Its….Me!" He gasped for breath, as my hands loosened around his neck. He cleared his throat, coughed.

I was mortified.

"Fredward?" I, very un-gracefully, tumbled off of his body, landing against a wall, covering myself with anything around. "You…YOU MOLESTER!" I was embarrassed, I felt completely ripped off. I was tricked, I felt like I had been lied to. I was expecting to be attacked by a stranger, not some geek. I mean, not saying I wanted to be attacked by a stranger, but I rather be attacked by a stranger than by Freddie.

He didn't explain anything just shushed me again. And from an act of desperation he pushed me inside his crowded closet, closed the door, and told me to not make a single sound.

And there I was, pretty much naked, hiding in that stinky, no elbow room, closet. I couldn't control my breathing, my headache was just unbearable, and I felt nausea running by my stomach yet again. I squinted through the crack of Freddie's closet, clasping my hands around my mouth. Doing as he told me to do.

Because he seemed serious.

Because he seemed almost scared.

It was only a matter of time before all my thoughts came together. And it's a shock, how sitting in a dark closet for about 15 seconds, really helps you glue pieces together_. I was drunk, came to Freddie's house, probably looking for Carly. He invites me in, takes care of me, and lets me sleep in his bed….but…_

I smile this nervous grin, _why would Freddie's mom, allow Freddie to have a girl sleep in his bed, let alone come into the house?_

And then that obnoxious tone rings into my ears, "FREDWARD!"

I watch Freddie frantically fix his bed. I can barely make out what he's hiding underneath it, but I believe it to be my clothes. I can't help but feel a bit violated.

"Yeah mom?" He called out, his head poking into the lit up hallway I believed only minutes ago to be a dungeon.

"Freddie, did you just say what I think you just said?" She stands into the doorway. "Well?" Her head was extended so far out I thought it was going to fall off her neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I watch as he subtly kicks my shirt under his bed. I love that shirt.

"Mhm…" She walks into the room, gives it a look, "Freddie, I hope you weren't doing anything wrong while I was away."

"Of course not!" He stuttered, stupid newbie. I inch closer to the door. Why does he suck at lying so much?

"Freddie Benson, you better not be lying to me!"

I then release a faint cackle. And then I hiss in pain, rubbing my headache. But my pain wasn't the only thing to be worried about. As I peeked out the faint crack yet again, I saw a fresh pair of eyes staring right at me, right through the door.

Freddie's mom was a fucking hawk. And like a mouse caught in its sight I was trapped.

Oh god the things she'd think! She'd open the door, and her eyes would fall out of her head. She'd give me this ugly looking frown, as she looks upon the half-naked girl in her son's closet. I'd be a whore in her sights.

And then she'd tell my mom.

And my mom would tell our counselor. And then I'd be in counseling for 10 more months, while my mom gets off scott free. Just thinking about it all makes me shutter and bite down on my lips again.

"What's wrong mom?" Freddie's voice comes off low and a bit shaky.

"Honey." She inches closer towards the door, I feel a bead of sweat spill down my back. "Are those eyes in your closet?"

Freddie, receiving rapid whip lash, spins his neck towards the closet, then at his mother. I watched the little gears spin rapidly inside his head as Mrs. Benson walked towards me in almost a nervous manner.

"Freddie, answer me." She whispers, her eyes still staring right at mine.

"Well…" He twiddled his fingers, squeezing his eyes tightly. He was sweating now. And like clockwork, her hand hovering over the closet doorknob, my eyes wide open ready to give my best face.

The door just swings open.

We lock eyes.

Freddie's mom is speechless. Her mouth wide open, her eyes bulging from her head. She held this stance like she was close to collapsing. Her arms held the door wide open, her fear was very noticeable, it ran through her eyes, and pale face. "Sam?" She softly says while looking back at her son in awe.

I was, again, mortified.

But this time, it was the complete embarrassment of what my mother would think. Of what anybody who heard of this would think. This reaction from Freddie's mom is exactly the look on the faces of those who will find out about this disaster a week from now! I could feel their hate. I could feel the lies and rumors. Who would protect me? Carly? Freddie? Certainly not my mom! A million questions buzzed around in my head, and I couldn't think of a solution to any of them.

"Mom I can explain…" Freddie starts off.

At this point, it's like a goddamn sitcom, a reality TV show with a twist at the end. I didn't say much, just stared into the eyes of the hawk who caught me red handed. And then she said the words I was afraid to hear, "Wait until I tell your mother Sam Puckett!" She huffs, grabs me by the arm, and shakes me out the dry. "So THIS is what you were doing!" She speaks to her son with so much hate.

I, for one thing, am astonished at her strength, as I try to pull her grasp from my wrist. I feel so embarrassed, like being found in Freddie's closet naked wasn't bad enough. She held me up, like showing off an item. Or holding up a garbage bag.

"You don't understand!" Freddie gasps, "I don't really know why she's naked either, because when I put her to bed she was fully cl-"

He was caught off guard with a swift slap.

I hadn't noticed the cold grip of Mrs. Benson fade, and Freddie didn't notice the pain on his cheek until his mom ran out the door.

I felt dirty.

I felt besmirched and disgusting.

I could only stand there, holding the stained grip on my arm, my eye's blurring up. I think I was crying, and I didn't like it.

Of course, I was thrown out instantly. Freddie gave me no sign of friendship as he closed the door behind him. And, like some filthy dog, I was cast out into the main apartment hallway. Embarrassed and dumbfounded I listening to the screaming of Mrs. Benson through the front door. The flickering lights above flashed around me. I felt so naked.

I give a quick turn and found myself at Carly's doorstep.

Afraid to admit it, I was scared.

I was scared that Freddie didn't like me anymore. I was scared that my mom would find out about the whole accident. I was just embarrassed about the whole thing and really want to crawl in a hole and die. I felt like a slut, a whore…anything lower than that just made me want to cry.

So, like some leech that moves from one home to the next, I knock on Carly's door. Because I can't go home now. Because I can't go home ever. My headache soon comes back as I wait for Carly to answer my constant banging, to invite me inside. Thinking about being safe in her house made me happy, made me forget about what just happened.

Carly doesn't answer for a while.

So, giving a quick peek at the Freddie household I give a small clap for myself. I ran through Freddie's house, slept in his bed, stripped in his room, and crept in his closet. I felt like I learned a lot about Freddie today. Like how he helps those in need, how he's completely horrified of his mom like everyone else, how he likes to causally wear boxers around the house and how disgustingly in love I was with him.


	3. Realization Over Actualizaton

**Notes: **Thanks for the reviews guys! They're greatly appreciated! Your comments are awesome and the alerts/favorites are sky rocketing! Listen, okay? Listen to me.** I fucking love all of you**. And this story isn't for me, or for some nasty ego thing, it's for you (God I'm SO corny) SO YOU BETTER FUCKING APPRECIATE THIS SHIT! GOT IT? Good. Anyway, here's what you've been waiting for guys, chapter 3.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own ICarly! But…if I did…shit would get real bro.

CHAPTER 3

Realization Over Actualization

I always seem to be alone in the end. Notice that I'm alone right now. Standing in-between the two homes of my two best friends. The flickering bulb above provides no light as I slump to the floor, giving up on the knocking. I was so tired of knocking on doors, hoping someone would answer. But even on the ground I still managed a small tap, my fingernails clicking against the door in a repulsive manner.

I felt so dirty. I needed a shower or something. I was either starving or the left over beer was coming back up again. And for some reason my other shoe was missing.

Then, amidst my dreaming, the door creaks open.

And, like the beacon of hope I was so eagerly hoping for, Carly pokes her head out into the hallway while giving me a subjective blank stare. And as the door swung open, I could only, clumsily, stand up. My eyes, for some reason, blurred up again. Carly looked tired, and just annoyed. It was four in the morning, so it makes sense that she gave me this small concerned grunt. I could only mumble a few words, trying to explain myself, but the lump in my throat prevented me from letting one sentence out. Carly didn't want an explanation as she opened the door and began dragging me inside. Her house at night was always eerie, but nevertheless felt like home. No more words were exchanged between us as I stood to the side watching Carly fix up the couch. It wasn't like I didn't do this every day. This was pretty causal, but the silence was not.

I was just glad that Carly didn't ask any, unwanted, questions. But I knew her well, I knew she'd sit me down at the dinner table and ask me a buttload of questions I didn't want to answer in the morning. But you know what? That's okay. I'm fine with that. Because I feel like, being alone, is worse than having nobody to care for you. So I'll take the torture, I'll answer her questions and give her deep meanings, as long as I'm not alone.

I watched her march up the stairs, she gave a simple wave, and I nodded slowly. And it's strange, sitting in bed, wide awake, always makes me think unusual things. I was prepared for the worst as my mind went off on a tangent, thinking of my mom, my life, the simple pleasures of having Carly as a friend, then Freddie. And immediately my thoughts changed to nightmares, like my dad, what happened only a few minutes ago, the rumors that'll spread of me. I cringe in-between the sheets, losing myself in a never ending tunnel of complete chaos.

And then it comes. A sudden temptation. Like a force or a push, it just clicks in my head. I felt some sort of unbelievable urge.

I wanted to go back into the nubs house.

I wanted to lie in his bed again.

I wanted to shudder in his sheets. I wanted to smell like him.

I pressed my fingers against my eyes, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Sam?"

I sit up immediately, my eyes searching through the darkness. That voice sounded like…"Spencer?"

"When did you get here?" His voice led my eyes to his silhouette. I watch him crawl through the kitchen leading up to the refrigerator for some milk. The light made us squint. "Want some?" He insisted while waving the jug through the air.

I nodded. Mainly because I really wanted someone to talk to, I felt like I was suffocating myself with negative thoughts.

He pours us both a glass, and we sit at the granite island, both staring into space. We individually took mini sips of our milk, didn't make much eye contact. I didn't really mind, I was just happy I wasn't laying in the dark, melting in my own grief. And, as if he was reading my mind, Spencer just blurted out, "Sam…do you get lonely sleeping down here?"

I choke on my milk, spitting it back into my cup. "What? Why?" I give him this nervous look, was I really that readable? I try extra hard to hid my fragile emotions so this was sort of strange.

"I dunno," He leans against his seat, "You seem quieter than usual."

Maybe I'm not so good at faking loneliness. "Well I just have a lot on my mind." I don't make eye contact. At that point I was a bit paranoid that he'll read me again.

"I see."

I give Spencer a small look, "Why are you up?"

He gives a faint laugh, a chuckle, "Heard Maris- Freddie's mom screaming across the hall." He spun in his seat, "Man she can yell!"

I gulp hard, "Yeah." God my voice came out shaky.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the man give me this curious look, almost like a smug grin, "Why do I feel like you had something to do with that?"

Man, Spencer was fantastic. He read me like a book, like I was just lying open, allowing anything to read my thoughts easily. I was really caught off guard, because I never really new Spencer had the mindset, or even the brain capacity, to focus on someone's feelings. And I'm not saying I think Spencer's dumb, I just know for a fact that for a 24 year old man Spencer doesn't really try too hard to pump his brain with knowledge on a regular basis. Still, though, I doubt he'll be able to truly read my exact needs, hiding feelings is what I do best.

"What? No!" I push my milk away, "She's always been a bit crazy. You know that." I give such a fake grin that I felt like I was frowning.

"Uh-huh."

"No really!"

"….Sam."

"I'm serious! I didn't do anything to Freddie!"

"I never said you did."

I then shushed myself at that point. Kinda gave up. I sat in my seat, limp and dealt with. He won the battle, the conversation was over. He knew. He understood. He probably feels like I'm some sort of child at this point, a little baby who can't sleep alone and has a habit of lying. And yet again, like this hasn't happened to me enough already, I felt embarrassed and small. Like a child.

But then, Spencer merely asks, "Want to go sleep with Carly?" I search along his warm smile.

I give a small nod. Hell yeah I wanted to sleep with Carly. Then I wouldn't be so alone; I would just fall asleep on her nice comfy bed. Dreaming of food sounds really good right about now.

He ruffles my hair up a bit and send me up the stairs, "Go." He replied. I give a wave, and about half way up the steps he calls out, "You know Sam, whatever it is that you did, saying sorry usually helps, a lot."

I didn't answer back, I didn't climb the stairs, just mumbled, "Let's hope."

And with that I moved on. I heard Spencer shuffle downstairs as I made my way to Carly's room. That was probably the most me and Spencer had talked in years. Shockingly, he seemed pretty mature. And as I curled up by Carly's side, I wondered why he isn't usually mature all the time. Obviously, I've never received much advice, so this was a nice change of pace. Usually when life is being a bitch I have to deal with it myself, as my mom says. God, just thinking about her irritates me and what's even worse is that I have to see her tomorrow. I have to say hello to her, I have to make sure I'm on my best behavior around her new thing she calls a boyfriend, and I have to stay away at all costs. Simple rules, but with these laws and limited rights it's hard to even get in one sentence with my mom.

All this shit sort of makes me wish for a survival guide of life.

Or a cheat guide.

Like if I simply click in Y X A B B Y A X and then a piece of ham would appear on my lap, I'd totally be fine with life.

I rub my eyes once again, "Am I still drunk?"

Carly reacts to my voice and begins to squirm under the sheets. I remain perfectly still, looking up at the ceiling once again, clasping the blanket tightly between my fingers. And somewhere between me thinking about my shit life, and staring at the ceiling, I must have drifted to sleep. And you never really know how you fall asleep, or when you start to drift into your dreams. All I can say is that I had such a terrible nightmare. One of which I couldn't recall anything of when I awoke. Yet, I felt like I was crying in my sleep. I felt sour and tough. Disgusting and just all around bitchy. I wanted to punch myself in the face. The guilt was getting to me, but, the guilt of what? Getting Freddie in trouble? I was confused and all around annoyed. Ignoring my terrible wake up I search the room quickly. Carly wasn't anywhere to be seen, and it was already eleven in the morning. I only slept for about seven hours, which was a decent amount, but I could've totally gone for four more. But before blessed sleepiness conquers me once again, the call of Spencer's raspy voice echoes up the stairs.

I groan. I couldn't help it. I cursed slightly and mumbled little insults, wrapping the sheets over my head like how I used to do when I was little. Yet, past all this bitterness, Spencer was tough, he sent Carly upstairs, knowing that I'd follow her. Knowing that I'd stick to her like a puppy.

And it was true, because before Carly came into the room I was already up and awake.

"We got bacon," She gives a sleepy smile. I give one back.

And then, some sort of feeling comes over me. Dear God it's the beer from yesterday making a comeback. No wait. A certain familiar voice echoes through the hallway. A hallway that seems to be getting longer and longer. I felt like I was walking this never ending pathway, which would lead to a pair of stairs I'd never reach. As I try figure this sudden mystery out, time stopped, fear struck me.

Carly turns and then says simply, "Freddie's also here."

I felt my face turn white. I felt it lose its color. "What?" I hear myself whisper, pulling Carly aside. "Why?"

"Um…Freddie and his mom got into a fight or whatever. So he's eating here."

I bite my lip. Why do I feel like yesterday night is going to haunt me forever? Maybe because it is? "Do you know what they were fighting…about?" I gulp.

"I dunno." Carly gives me this freaked out look, "You okay Sam?"

I realize I'm practically breaking Carly's arm off, so I step back, looking down the stairs with such fear.

"Sam?" I turn to Carly, "You look scared."

Scared? Scared. I've never been scared. Is Carly saying that Sam Puckett, the girl who beat up Big Bertha in the 5th grade while using only one fist because the other one was holding a sandwhich, is afraid of Freddie Benson? Little Fredward?

Ah hell no.

I give Carly this serious, dangerous look, like I'm about to do a never before seen stunt. "Carly. Let's go get some mother fucking bacon." I literally plummet down the stairs. Climbing down like an athlete. I jump over the couch and sprint to the first seat I lay my eyes on. I make no sudden movements. My eyes only glare at the empty plate before me.

Carly comes stumbling down after me. "Um…found Sam." She points nonchalantly.

"We noticed." Spencer manages to say, placing stripes of bacon onto my plate.

I gobble them down, never picking up my utensils, never looking up. I can already feel Freddie's presence at the table. He's eating right in front of me I can feel it. I feel his nerdy aura affecting my eating habits. At some point, during my shoveling of food down my throat, I miss my mouth and the bacon goes flying. I don't bother turning around to see where it landed, I just kept raking in the bacon. Stuffing my face full so I can leave as fast as I can.

"Sam," Carly gives this small murmur, "You're going to choke, relax."

"Yeah Sam, I know you love bacon and all, but come on." Spencer pipes in.

Freddie doesn't speak.

I keep eating.

I can't really recall the whole breakfast conversation that Spencer, Carly and Freddie were having. Mainly because I don't care. But I do remember eating all the bacon. And how sick I felt afterwards. So sick that Carly had to carry me to the couch, settle me down, and put on girly cow. I still hadn't made one look at Freddie. I was pretty proud of myself. Freddie sounded very casual, not nervous. I was pretty irritated.

Why was I reacting so strangely? Probably because the loser saw me naked, in his closet, sweating profusely, being held up by his mother.

I wonder if Freddie agreed with his mom for once.

I bet he really thinks I'm a whore now. Oh man I can picture it now, when I left he ran to his bed and burnt his sheets. He probably thought I was touching myself, I mean why else would I be naked in his bed? Was I making this worse? Yes.

I felt a heavy weight press against my feet, flickering my eyes open, my first sight literally made me jump. Freddie's face leaning towards mine. "Is she dead?" He chuckles.

"I think so." I feel Carly tap my head, "Sam get up."

I close my eyes, oh shit I looked directly into his eyes. I looked into his deep pupils. Needlessly I sit up, and look towards my lap.

"See? She's not dead." Carly smiles, slapping my cheeks gently.

"Too bad." Freddie grumbles getting up carefully.

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? He IS embarrassed. No. His mom is embarrassed and wants ME dead, so she convinced Freddie to go against me.

"I gotta go." The words slip from my mouth so easily.

"What?" Carly asks pleadingly, watching me as I gather my shoe and head for the door. "Where are you going?" She catches me by the wrist.

I made up such a filthy excuse, "Mom's probably looking for me." It wasn't all a lie, she probably was searching for me, wondering what she heard from Freddie's mom was true. Because I can bet you a million bucks, that when I was kicked out from Freddie's house, his mom ran to the phone and dialed my mom quickly.

I hold onto the doorknob loosely. "I really gotta go." I pull a smile, "Thanks for the bacon!" I give Shay a hug, a hug as if I'd never see her again. Which was weird because I knew perfectly that we had ICarly tomorrow. Yet, I felt like a hug was all I really wanted.

I was so damn emotional.

"Okay…" Carly was even confused about the hug, "I'll call you okay?"

I nod. I leave.

I don't say goodbye to Freddie.

Blowing out a breath of fresh air, I stumble through the hallway. "Never thought I'd get out of there." I sluggishly mumble, while following the stairs down.

"Hey Sam!"

I turn. It's Freddie.

Fuck.

"What?" I turn back around, heading down the stairs once again. I really didn't want this. I needed time to think.

"You left something at my place."

"Well, keep it." What a stupid thing to say. What is he going to do with a feminine object? Actually...don't answer that.

"Keep…it? No. Just wait here okay?" I hear him shuffle back upstairs.

I surprisingly wait. I was curious. I didn't know what he was going to bring, and whatever it was, in what condition would it be in? Would it be all ratty and misplaced, or maybe in a bag? For some reason I really thought long and hard about what Freddie would bring back. My vomit in a bag? Or maybe even the sheets I "tarnished"? I felt like I left my underwear under his bed, and I could picture him coming back with them in his grubby little hands, HA. I'd have to burn them. Maybe he was going to come back with his mom. And I'd stand there looking awkward while his mom badmouths me, her insults echoing down the stairs. Or maybe… he wouldn't come back at all.

No.

He came back, one shoe in hand. The shoe was not in a bag or a box. It wasn't ratty or forgotten. Freddie, very cooly threw it down the stairs, yelling a small "catch!" I caught the sneaker carefully. And silently, we watched as a slipped it on.

"Well…that's better." I replied, looking up. And then, I felt small again, lurking in the shadow of Freddie. That long shadow that projectiles down the staircase, right over me.

"Yeah…" He very stiffly leans against the open doorway, "Now you don't look so homeless."

"Hey. You know me." I wave my arms in the air, a smile perches against my lips.

So while my smile grew, Freddie's smile faded. "Maybe…I really don't….Puckett."

Everything went very still, quiet. A silence passed by on who would speak first. I remained silent, while Freddie threw out this stupid question, that I felt he'd held in his gut for so long, out into the air.

"Why were you even drunk to begin with?"

I gave a very fake answer. "Just was."

"No. Nobody is just drunk." Freddie, climbs down the stairs, suddenly is in my space, "There's always a reason."

I still remain silent.

"Where do you go at night when nobody can see or watch over you?" Freddie looks down, licking his lips, "What, do you have this secret life at night or something? Is that why you're always tired?"

"No."

He gives me the most concerning look I've ever seen before. Like he really cared. Like he really wanted to know me. Know this stupid girl. I can't look him in the eye, I fear if I did, I'd crumble. My tough self would just fall and never get back up. He'd see right through me and know me and really understand me. He'd be desperate, almost obsessed for more and more information. I'd be so vulnerable, letting myself out there.

I'd be cold.

"I…got to go." I turn on my heel and scramble down the stairs.

Freddie doesn't follow. But now I have to look forward for more questioning tomorrow, from Carly and Freddie.

As I get a grumpy goodbye from Lubert, and make my way out into the fresh warm morning air, I lean against the building, almost in a violated way. Like I'd been judged, or checked. Like someone just searched me but didn't find the bomb hidden in my pocket. I felt, like he was so close to connecting with me, it was scary. And I needed to breathe before I could start walking again. Was just one vulnerable night all it took for Freddie to really start caring about me? To really start getting interested about me? I felt like I was soft, fragile. Damaged goods.

It made me sick.

He thinks I'm this poor girl that needs help. He practically pities me.

And while I think in silence, watching an array of people walk around on the sidewalk, cars honking all around, I was once again alone.

Now I didn't know what to fear more.

Loneliness?

Or throwing myself into the arms of someone I really don't want to trust.


End file.
